Logan straightened the cuffs of his monkey suit for the umpteenth time, and scowled at the elderly registrar. Where the fuck was his bride to be? It didn’t take that long to walk down the castle steps and make her way into the garden where the ceremony was to be held. The photographer aimed her camera into his face, and he flexed his fingers against the urge to wrench that piece of equipment out of her hands and throw it into the stream which formed a small lake. An idyllic setting the brochure had said, and he supposed that was true.

The way Hannah’s eyes had lit up in silent...